A Moment
by Celery Sticks
Summary: Takes place during 6th year. A curious Hermione finds Draco crying in an empty stairway. For reasons completely unbeknownst to her, she decides to comforts him.


When Hermione saw the hunched figure of Draco Malfoy seated on the stairway to the dungeon, her first instinct was to stick her nose in the air and continue right on past him. Her second instinct was to throw some petty insult his way and immediately retaliate when he called her a mudblood, as he surely would.

But when she heard the sounds of gentle sobbing, her third instinct was to find out why the young aristocrat was upset. Heaven knows why, the boy had proven time and time again that he had no love for Hermione, or for her friends. In fact, he'd made it quite clear he hated her, her dirty-blood, and all that she stood for. Equality, tolerance, compassion towards those weaker than oneself… all virtues that most normal people would find noble.

Then again, Draco had been raised in a family fueled by hatred and drunk on crazed prejudice; thinking about it, Hermione couldn't really blame the blonde young man for turning out to be as sour as an old lemon. Though she refused to accept the way he acted, for the way he treated others was inexcusable, his arrogance and twisted views were not his fault.

Shifting the books she held in her arms, Hermione bit her lip subconsciously as she contemplated what she should do. Surely any attempt at comfort would be sorely received by the Malfoy, but just leaving him alone with his tears wouldn't do… God forbid one of his pureblood "friends" find him like this and worsen the situation.

Now that she thought about it, Draco had been acting odd since the start of their 6th year; both his appearance and attitude seemed to get more and more disheveled as the year went on. He'd begun to lose color with each passing day, and his face had taken on a gaunt, skeletal quality. He'd taken to walking the halls alone and even when he was with Crabbe or Goyle the young Malfoy looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

Something awful must have been plaguing the young man…

Lord… Hermione was such a pushover when it came to pitiful creatures.

Steeling her resolve, the courageous Gryffindor strode forward to stand on the same stair Draco had seated himself on. Looking down, Hermione's heart twitched at the sight of him; he held his head in his hands, his shirt was wrinkled and his tie had nearly come undone. His hair was a mess, and the ay his shoulders were shaking…

"Go away, Mudblood." Even his trademark nickname for her did nothing to deter Hermione from the task she'd given herself; she would find out what was causing the young man to act this way, and if she could, she would help him. Besides, the insult lacked any real bite; it was almost as if Draco hadn't the strength to deal emotional damage. He was simply going through the motions, and the utter despair in his voice spurred the witch on.

"Draco… what's wrong?"

A dark chuckle escaped the young man, and as his hands came away from his face and his back straightened, the corners of Hermione's mouth pulled down into a frown. His eyes, which were usually so bright with confidence and self-assurance, were clouded and bloodshot.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything's just perfect! Just as it's… meant to be." The sarcasm in his voice was nearly drowned out by misery, and Hermione felt her heart break a little when his false smile fell away and he wiped at his nose with the back of his hand.

He refused to meet her gaze.

"Draco-"

"Why are you here?" Hermione sighed and stopped trying to catch his eye, instead casting her gaze to the torch that lit the stairway. As she watched the flames dance, no appropriate answer seemed forthcoming. But then, out of nowhere, one came tumbling out of her mouth.

"Just trying to figure out why one of the proudest boys in school is down here crying, especially since everything's 'just as it's meant to be'." She wasn't expecting such a teasing answer, but it seemed to be the best thing she could have possibly said, for suddenly watery grey eyes were seeking hers. When she returned his gaze it became obvious he was searching for some sign that this was all a joke, or a trick.

It was clear he couldn't believe she actually cared. She couldn't believe it herself, actually. But looking into those haunted, yet beautiful silver eyes, she didn't really question it.

But then he looked away.

"I'm not crying."

Hermione snorted in a most un-lady-like fashion, and then silence settled over them both. It wasn't necessarily an uncomfortable silence, for Draco had stopped crying and now just sat there, hunched on the stair. Hermione watched him sit, noting the shadows under his eyes and the pallor of his skin. He hadn't been sleeping well recently. Bringing back the image of his eyes on hers, she remembered how defeated and desperate they'd looked. Clearly something had happened to knock him off his high-horse; someone or something had shown him he was not as strong as he'd been brought up to believe he was.

"You haven't answered me yet."

"Hm? Oh, you mean about why I'm here?" When Draco nodded ascent, Hermione smiled slightly. "It is odd, isn't it? You've made it clear that you can't stand me, and if you'll recall our third year I did punch you right in the face… and after calling you a-"

"A foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach?" Hermione turned to look at the young man, but when she saw the corners of his mouth turned up in a half-smile, her smile widened and she continued.

"Yes, a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach. But you know, despite that, when I saw you sitting there on the stair… I couldn't just leave you here. Believe me; I wanted to; that was my first instinct, actually."

"So, you felt sorry for me." The smile was gone from Draco's face, and the misery had begun to creep back into his voice. She immediately placed a hand on his arm, both surprised and relieved when he didn't flinch or pull away.

"No, I was curious. You know me, being a know-it-all… I wanted to know what was wrong." Now it was Draco's turn to snort, but Hermione got this odd notion that he believed her, or at least wanted to.

"So what _is_ wrong, Draco?"

He remained silent for a moment, but then he turned to look at her, and the sudden intensity in his gaze brought heat to Hermione's cheeks.

"Have you ever had to do something you didn't want to do? Something horrible, that you knew was wrong… but you didn't have choice because if you didn't do it, you'd face consequences unimaginable? And not just you, but those you cared about? Have you ever been so desperate to do what's right, but so afraid to refuse to do what's been asked of you?"

The young man had drawn closer to her with each word, and if it weren't for the fact that his words disturbed her she surely would have been extremely, nervously conscious of their proximity. But what he was saying… was this what had caused him fall to pieces? Is this why Draco had fallen into mental and emotional disarray? Someone had clearly given him a horrible task, and he clearly didn't want to do it, but he feared for his life… so the task must have been accompanied by a death threat.

The young witch suspected Voldemort was involved. After all, Draco's' father was a known Death Eater. Mentioning the Dark Lord's name here though would surely send the young man running, and Hermione didn't want that. Quite the contrary, she wanted him to tell her what was wrong. She wanted him to confide in her, and maybe with a little push…

"No, I… can't say that I have. Have you?"

Draco looked at her intensely for another moment, before his eyes slid shut and he pulled away. The young Malfoy sighed and stood. Opening his eyes, he stared straight ahead for a moment, before offering a Hermione a hand. Taking it, she stood and continued to hold the pale, cold appendage with her own, watching it's owner curiously.

"I have. But I'm not going to tell you just yet."

Suddenly his lips were on hers, Hermione's eyes going wide as the hand holding hers tightened, and its partner came up to brush against her cheek. Just as she was about to let her eyes slide shut, he pulled away. She stared at him in shock, her cheeks pink and her mouth hanging open slightly. He was staring at the floor, his expression unreadable.

"When it's done… if you don't hate me… then I'll tell you."

Draco looked up at her through the fringe of his hair and smiled slightly, nervously, before straightening up and heading down the stairs. He didn't look back as he passed through the door that led to the dungeon.

Hermione stood stock still for a moment more, before the heat spread to her ears and she quickly stooped down to retrieve her books. After arranging them in her arms, she brushed a stray piece of her hair behind her ear and smiled fondly down at the door.

Turning, she headed off to the Gryffindor Common Room.


End file.
